Category Archives: Science Fiction/Fantasy

Magazine/Anthology, Serial

[October 18, 1965] Turn, Turn, Turn (November 1965 Fantasy & Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Winds of Change

History is divided into eras: The Stone Age, The Middle Ages, The Renaissance.  There are Golden Ages and Dark Ages.  The Jazz Age.  The Gilded Age.  One is never quite sure of a period's exact delineations, the precise moments of its beginning or end, until the next one is well on its way.  It is possible to tell when one is in an age, however, and also to feel keenly the wistful uncertain sense one gets in the doldrums between epochs.  Who can't have felt that way in the year succeeding President Kennedy's assassination, when his civil rights program, American involvement in Indochina, even the character of government in general hung in the balance.  And who can doubt that, for better or worse, the Johnson era has clearly begun?

I've lived through two sea changes in music.  The first was in 1954, when the overripe swing and schmaltz on the radio was overrun with a wave of rock and roll, particularly if you tuned into the Black stations (luckily, a radio tuner cannot easily be segregated).  By 1963, the winds of change had become muddled.  With folk, pop, motown, surf, and country vying for our eardrums, it was quite impossible to know then where the next two years would take us.  Then the Beatles spearheaded the biggest British invasion since 1812, and a new age was upon us.

Science fiction has its ages, too.  When I got into SF in a big way, the genre was clearly plumb in the middle of one.  It was 1954, four years after Galaxy's editor, Horace Gold, had thrown the gauntlet down at the feet of puerile pulp SF, five years after the new Fantasy and Science Fiction established a literary benchmark for the genre that has yet to be exceeded.  Science fiction primarily came in digest sized magazines, and the market was aflood with them.  Quality ranged from the penny-a-word mags which were little above the pulps that preceded them to stellar new fiction that burst beyond our solar system and ranged deep into our pysches.

As the 60s dawned, the genre had become anemic.  Almost all of the monthly digests had gone out of print.  The old stalwart, Astounding, had changed its name to Analog, but is fiction remained stolidly fixed in an older mode.  Gold retired from Galaxy and Fred Pohl struggled to keep it and its sister mags fresh as its reliable stable of authors left for greener (as in the color of money) pastures.  F&SF's helm passed on to Avram Davidson, whose whimsical style did the magazine few favors.

But the genre seems to have found its feet and is stomping off in a new direction.  Propelled by a "New Wave," again largely based in Britain, the science fiction I've been reading these days no longer feels like retreads of familiar stories.  They have the stamp of a modern era, an indisputable sense of 1960s.  And no single issue of a single magazine has represented this renaissance in SF better than the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

A Fresh Breeze


by Gray Morrow (illustrating the many perils of … And Call Me Conrad (Part 2 of 2)

Come to Venus Melancholy, by Thomas M. Disch

Disch is one of the flagbearers of the new era.  In just three years, this new author has produced more than 20 stories, some of them quite brilliant.  In this one (set on an obviously pre-Mariner Venus), a lonely cyborg staffer of a trading post literally holds you captive while she tells the sad story of how she lost her love.

By turns horrifying and heartbreaking, it's a moving piece.  Four stars.

The Peacock King, by Larry McCombs and Ted White

Less effective though more experimental is this piece on the first successful hyperdrive jaunt.  After four failures, it is determined that the transition to hyperspace bears similarities to drug-induced schizophrenia.  One couple, so in love as to practically share a consciousness, is fed a regimen of psychoactives to prepare them for the trip.

Somewhat roughly written, and perhaps too short, it is nevertheless a fascinatingly "now" story delving into new territory.

Three stars.

Insect Attractant, by Theodore L. Thomas

This usually disappointing column of sf-story ideas masquerading as short science articles starts promisingly, discussing how insect pests could be eradicated through synthesis of female sex pheromones, which could then be sprayed to disrupt their breeding cycles.  A fine alternative to DDT.

But then he goes on to suggest that human females have similar pheromones, and that distillation and application of same could be used by marriage counselors, as if love is purely a matter of chemical compatibility. Perhaps the author has never been in love, let alone gotten married.  Of course, Mr. Thomas may have meant the piece in jest, though I also resented its casually sexist overtones.  Either way, it's not worth the page it occupies.

Two stars — and let's please 86 this column, Mr. Ferman?

… And Call Me Conrad (Part 2 of 2), by Roger Zelazny

When last we left Konstantin Karaghiosis, Minister for Cultural Sites on an atomics-devastated Earth, he was giving a tour of Greece to a blue-skinned Vegan, name of Cort Vishtigo, and his human entourage.  Ostensibly, the alien was on Earth to write a travelogue.  His true purpose is unknown, but the members of the Radpol movement believe Vishtigo's trip is a real estate survey, prelude to the Vegans buying up the planet to plunder.  An assassination attempt is in the offing, and Karaghiosis (virtually immortal and currently going by the name of Conrad) believes that the alien's bodyguard, Hassan, is the likely killer. 

That's the context, but the tale Zelazny weaves reads like a modern interpretation of mythology, with Conrad's party encountering a host of radiation mutated beasts, humans, and everything in-between.  Conrad is a tale of survival, of derring do, of proving worth.  It's also a pretty good mystery with a satisfying, if a touch too pat, ending.

At first, I was leery of Zelazny's style, a first person macho that threatens to become precious.  But there's enough self-deprecatory humor to make it work, and I found the pages flying.  There's enough action to keep it moving, enough depth to keep you thinking.

Four stars for this segment, and the novel as a whole is elevated to this rank as well.

El Numero Uno, by Sasha Gilien

It used to be that Death attended to matters personally.  Now, the business has boomed, and he requires field agents armed with legal contracts instead of scythes.  This particular case involves a harried operative on the sports beat and a particularly recalcitrant matador scheduled for expiration.

Good stuff in the style of Ron Goulart.  Four stars.

Squ-u-u-ush!, by Isaac Asimov

Having previously discussed the shortest measure of time, the largest measures of dimension, the hottest heat, and the coldest cold, the Good Doctor now explores the densest densities, starting with ordinary matter and proceeding the greatest crushes in the universe: the interior of giant stars.

Cutting edge stuff, and it's the first time I learned of neutronium, a state of matter even more compressed than that found inside a white dwarf.

Four stars.

A Few Kindred Spirits, by John Christopher

Last up, the much heralded author of No Blade of Grass offers up a tale combining a queer (in both senses of the word) group of dogs, the concept of reincarnation, and the pursuit of literary laurels.  A character study cum literal shaggy dog story, it's perhaps the most conventional piece of the issue — save for the rather daring (and refreshingly uncondemned) discussion of alternate sexual preferences.

Four stars.

The Sound of Shoes Dropping

It is clear that, after a long many-tacked jaunt in trackless seas, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has set a bold new course.  I have high hopes and more than a little suspicion that this New Wave era has many more exciting years left to it.

After quite a few lean years, I'm finally getting my dessert again!




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 10, 1965] Doctor Where? (Doctor Who: Mission To The Unknown)

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By Jessica Holmes

Probably weren’t expecting me to be back so soon, eh? We’ve got a very, very unusual story this week, courtesy of Terry Nation. Why is it so unusual? Let’s find out.

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Movies

[October 8, 1965] Handle with Care (Forbidden Planet)

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by Gideon Marcus

High Hopes

In preparation for the last episode of The Journey Show, in which we discussed the movies of the last fifteen years, the Young Traveler and I cast about for every SF movie we could find that we'd missed the first time through.  That's how we came across the "They came from 1951" double feature that Lorelei wrote so engagingly about.

And it's how we ended up in a dingy second-run theater at the edge of town for a viewing of the 1956 hit, Forbidden Planet.  I'd heard a lot about the film, that it was the first big budget rendition of classic space opera, that it was absolutely gorgeous, and that I was somehow remiss as a reviewer of science fiction for not having seen it. 

So don't let it be said that my upcoming savaging of the film is the result of any predisposition to be negative.  Indeed, I had every expectation that Forbidden Planet was going to be something special.

And, in some very negative ways, it is…

The Reality

Things start encouragingly enough, opening on a shot of the United Planets cruiser "C-57D" zooming through space.  All of the space ships of the 1950s (with the exception of the novel manta-ray looking ships from War of the Worlds) fall into two categories: V-2 rocketships and flying saucers, and the C-57D is a classic example of the second type. 

The vessel, skippered by Commander John J. Adams (Leslie Nielsen), has traveled more than a year to the real-life white star, Altair, to check up on the Bellerophon, a ship last heard from two decades before.  C-57D is apparently traveling at superluminal speeds, and in a nice bit, all of the crew head into cylindrical stasis chambers for the transition to normal space. 

Eight minutes into the movie, Lorelei and I were hooked.  This picture was absolutely beautiful and unlike anything we'd seen before.  We licked our lips in anticipation.

And then the disappointments began.

After making orbit around the green-tinged Altair IV (orbiting a strangely orange Altair) the C-57D gets a call from the surface.  Dr. Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) of the Bellerophon is the sole survivor of the prior expedition, and he tells Commander Adams in no uncertain terms that he needs no assistance and, in fact, the relief ship will be in danger if it lands.  Rather than asking why he shouldn't proceed, Commander Adams instead cuts off Dr. Morbius in mid-admonition!


"This program is boring – let's tune to Jack Benny!"

Nevertheless, the movie soon seduces us again with the following amazing shot and a vibrant set of electronic sound effects.

Upon landing, they are met by "Robby the Robot," a character the filmmakers were so proud of that they gave him his own title card.  It's true that he moves with all the grace of a man in a lumpy suit, and I have the disadvantage of having seen him reused in at least one episode of The Twilight Zone, but a robot that doesn't look like a person is a pleasant surprise.

Despite Dr. Morbius' earlier protestations, Robby has been sent to invite the Commander over for tea.  Adams and two of his men (the crew of the C-57D is entirely male, natch), Lieutenant Jerry Farman (Jack Kelly) and "Doc" Ostrow (the TV ubiquitous Warren Stevens) head over.  It turns out that Dr. Morbius has made quite a nest for himself.


Dr. Morbius in a typically declamatory pose

Dr. Morbius is affable enough, but he has a somber tale, which he delivers in a rather toneless monologue, as if telling a bedtime story.  Shortly after landing, the crew of the Bellerophon suffered gruesome death after death at the hands of some unseen beast.  Only the doctor and his wife were spared, because they loved the planet rather than fearing it, the doctor believes.

Sadly, his wife died soon after the incident due to natural causes.  Nevertheless, Dr. Morbius has not been alone the whole time.  For one, there's Robby: his home-built robot is the ultimate servant, able to produce any item from its belly…and it also does dishes!

And then, there is Altaira.

This fetching thing (Anne Francis, currently Honey West) is, of course, the daughter of Dr. Morbius and his wife, the latter having died in childbirth.  She is excited at meeting men, particularly the Lieutenant and the Commander (no accounting for taste – Doc Ostrow is the most likeable of the characters even if he's the first one to throw out a sexist comment, that Robby will be the bane of housewives everywhere).

Lieutenant Freeman wastes no time with the coquettish Altaira, first denigrating his Commander in a way that would be mutinous if Adams knew, and then explaining that kissing is beneficial to Altaira's health and they should indulge in it right quick.  It's a scene with all the charm of Walter Breen describing his virtues to your son. 

Altaira does not derive any pleasure from the event, and thankfully, Commander Adams shows up then to break things up.  But don't breathe a sigh of relief too quickly.  He's just there to tell Altaira that it's all her fault he assaulted her, and that she needs to put some damned clothes on, for goodness' sake.  After all, who is he to impose a modicum of discipline and respectfulness over his crew?  The skipper?

It gets worse, as he browbeats her for being flirtatious, clearly resentful that he wasn't the first target of her attentions.  Finally, he sends her off, all but threatening to spank her.

(It's in this scene, by the way, that we learn that the ship's complement of the C-57D is 18.  There is absolutely no way that 18 men were on this tiny saucer for more than a year.)

That night, something invisible sneaks past the sentries and destroys vital components of the spaceship.  The vessel is marooned unless repairs can be made.  Despite knowing that there is an invisible terror on the planet, Commander Adams is furious with his guards, roaring at them and meting out severe punishment.  At this point, we were wondering if the movie was deliberately showing that Commander Adams was both incompetent and a jerk in a subversion of the hero type.  Of course, we were giving the film too much credit. 

This painful vignette is followed by a truly groanworthy stretch of dialogue between Adams and Chief Engineer Quinn:

Quinn: Half of this gear we can replace and the rest we can patch up somehow…except this special Klystron frequency modulator.  With every facility of the ship, I think I might be able to rebuild it…but frankly, the book says no.  It came packed in liquid boron in a suspended grav…

Adams: All right, so it's impossible.  How long will it take?

Quinn: Well, if I don't stop for breakfast…

Adams: Get on it, Quinn.

Quinn: Thank you, sir.

This bothered me.  If the thing is fixable, give an accurate estimate, don't be coy to burnish your credentials as a miracle worker.  Frankly, this also made me think less of the Commander, who let him go without a actual timetable.

Note: I tend to be particularly sensitive to problematic portrayals of people in charge.  As a person who has run companies and other entities for years, the leader types are the ones I most identify with, and they have the job I have most familiarity with doing.  When I see it done wrong, especially when we're supposed to admire the leader character, it drives me nuts.

On with the show.

Commander Adams, having sated his sadism quota for the day, heads out with Ostrow back to Dr. Morbius' pad to get more information about the phantom beasts of Altair IV.  There, they espy Altaira bathing in the nude, after which she comes out of the water and puts on a new dress that covers everything, per Adams' prior orders.  You see, when Adams chastised her for being a floozy, she really liked it.  And in short order, this is happening:

At this point, Lorelei asked me why I was such a horrible father subjecting her to this dreck.  She clearly has a poor memory – subjecting her to dreck is a tradition that goes back almost seven years now.  In this case, though, my pain was easily as acute as hers.  And before you rejoinder my objection with, "Well, Altaira's clearly enjoying herself, so what's the problem?" I'll point out that Altaira isn't a person.  She's a flat character portraying what is obviously wish fulfillment on the part of the writer; she bears no resemblance to an actual human being in this situation.  That's why it's so painful to watch – she's treated horribly and then reacts unnaturally.

The smooching between Altaira and Adams enrages the girl's pet tiger, and Adams zaps the kitty into nonexistence.  Which just underlines another ridiculous part of this movie.  At every possible juncture, Adams whips out his gun.  He's already done it (I think) three times before this point in the movie.  It's a miracle the tiger is the first casualty of his itchy trigger finger.

When Dr. Morbius is not immediately forthcoming, Adams and Ostrow break into his private office and start reviewing the doctor's papers.  Morbius catches them in the act and is rightfully upset.

However, he calms down quickly enough and embarks on another monologue about how Altair IV used to be inhabited by a poweful species called the Krell, how the race had built these giant machines powered by the heat of the planet itself, and how, one day, they all murdered each other.

While the delivery is again unremarkable, the subject matter is interesting, and the scenes from the guided tour of the alien equipment is breathtaking, visually and aurally.

It turns out that the doctor is something special, too.  Upon finding the alien ruins, he had hooked himself up to an alien machine, a sort of mental waldo.  The same device had killed the Bellerophon's captain when he tried it out, but Morbius survived (barely).  Per his report (in yet another stultifying monologue), it doubled his intelligence, allowing him to create Robby and the other marvels of his Altairan residence.

While this tour is going on, the invisible monster slips aboard the C-57D again past increased defenses, for what sinister purpose, we don't yet know.  Back at the doctor's ranch, Adams is trying to get Morbius to give up the secrets of the Krell to humanity, but Morbius doesn't feel the human race is ready.  The conversation gets heated.  Adams and Ostrow return empty handed only to find that the unseen Altairan has killed a member of the cruiser's crew.  It left behind this remarkable footprint, which Ostrow recreated in plaster.

Amazingly, Adams does not throw anyone in the brig for dereliction of duty this time.  Instead, he holds a funeral for the lost crewman.


Again, there's no way 18 men were cooped up in that thing for a year.

That night, the beast comes back with a vengeance.  The ship's energy barriers and combined weaponry are almost useless against it and more crew die.

Right after the attack, we are shown this scene.  If you haven't figured out what's causing the attacks by this point, you may need to stay after class for extra assignments.

Adams and Ostrow rush back to the Morbius estate, where their passage is blocked by Robby.  They whip out their guns (of course) but those are quickly neutralized.  Altaira intercedes to let them in.  Shortly thereafter, Ostrow shows up with three burns on his forehead – he has used the mind waldo, which has given him tremendous mental powers.  They are too much for him, however, and he soon succumbs, but not before revealing that the monster is indeed a manifestation of Dr. Morbius' subconscious mind created by his link with the Krell's machines!


The tenderest scene in the movie

Adams confronts Morbius with the knowledge, explaining that Morbius unconsciously killed the crew of the Bellerophon when they wanted to leave the planet.  He started killing the crew of the U-57D when they threatened to take Altaira away from him.

The beast of Morbius' id now manifests even when the doctor is awake, coming after Adams even in the strongest of Krell sanctums. Adams, of course, whips out his gun, threatening to kill Dr. Morbius to stop the monster (even though we saw Robbie deactivate the blaster just minutes before).

Dr. Morbius throws himself in front of the door, castigating and disowning the id monster's existence.  The beast subsides, but Morbius is now dying (for some unknown reason).  With his last wish, he commands Adams to activate the Krell city's self-destruct mechanism.

This gives Adams enough time to take Altaira and Robby onto the U-57D, which is all fixed now despite "the book" saying a repair couldn't be done.  Hugging on the bridge in front of the 14 of his remaining sex-starved, uncontrollable crew, they watch as Altair IV explodes. 


The secrets of the ages?  Ah, who needs 'em.

Roll credits.

After Action Report

I didn't like this move.  We didn't like this movie.  The characters are all wretched (including the drunken cook whose subplot involving the plying of Robbie for manufactured booze wasn't worth discussing).  Commander Adams, if he turns in an unvarnished report, should be up for court martial several times over.  Walter Pidgeon has one setting, and he's left on it for too much of the movie.  Despite the film's not overlong running time, it often dragged.

Most disturbing is the anti-feminism, egregious even for these less-than-enlightened times.  As fellow traveler Erica Frank notes, "It's especially worth a sharp look when the story is science fiction, where the underlying message includes "so much of society has changed — these are the parts that were worth keeping."

So is there anything to like about this movie?  Well…

The touters are correct.  It is beautiful, from its set design to its special effects to its wide wide Cinemascope aspect ratio.  Cinematorapher George J. Folsey, whose credits go back to 1920 did a fine job.

The soundtrack, in particular, by avante garde electronic musicians Bebe and Louis Barron is just incredible.  I've only heard its like in the theme of Dr. Who and the music and effects of the British marionette show, Space Patrol.  It makes me want to break out some electronic components and build some modulating circuits for my own experimental purposes.

The background of the Krell and the Freudian id monster weren't bad as far as science fiction goes.  One could easily find such devices in a story from any of the SF mags of the era or before. 

In short, we liked everything about the movie but the movie.  I'm almost tempted to re-record the dialogue with an entirely new script, preserving the spectacular visuals and sound.

Perhaps I don't have to.  I understand that the new SF anthology show, Star Trek, has such lush production values that it will essentially look like Forbidden Planet on television.  As long as it doesn't hew too close to its predecessor.

As for rating Forbidden Planet. call it five stars for production values, three for the setup, and one for the execution…

Don't miss this weekend's episode of The Journey Show, taking you on a whirlwind tour of the exciting new field of Japanese animation!




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Movies

[October 6, 1965] Go, baby, go! (Faster Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill!)

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by Natalie Devitt

From the moment the Russ Meyer’s new film (screenplay by Jack Moran), Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! opens with a voice-over announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to violence!”, it is made perfectly clear that this film may not be everyone’s cup of tea.  The voice-over warns the audience of a “rapacious new breed” of woman that “prowls both alone and in packs.” When the viewer is introduced to the movie’s three leading ladies, they are hard at work at their place of employment, a go-go club.

Out of the club, the group’s leader, Varla, is heard letting out an evil laugh while speeding off in her Porsche.  She leads the other two women, each at the wheel of their very own sports car, out for some fun in the desert.  Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! establishes early on that Varla, played by burlesque dancer-turned-actress Tura Satana (1963’s Irma La Douce), rules her group by intimidation.

Varla orders everyone around and can become pretty abusive, to both men and women.  Her wardrobe for the better part of the film reflects her personality.  She is usually dressed all in black, shirt with a plunging neckline, pants, and gloves.  She also has long dark hair with blunt bangs.  Others describe her as a “beautiful animal”, “cold one” and even “a real Jekyll and Hyde.” Her main love interest, another woman and brunette named Rosie, can be seen lighting cigarettes for her.  Rosie is played by Canadian actress Haji, who can also be seen in another Russ Meyer film this year, Motorpsycho.  Rounding out the trio is blonde beauty Lori Williams of Viva Las Vegas (1964) in the role of Billie.

While taking a break from driving, a couple in another vehicle pulls up beside Varla’s group.  Tommy, “an all-American boy” and “champion” of his car club, hopes the ladies do not mind if he and his girlfriend try running some timing trials next to them.  Tommy explains that he picked the location because it is “about the best measured strip around.” Varla gives them the go-ahead.  Timing Tommy’s driving is his girlfriend, the incredibly sweet and innocent Linda.  She is played by Susan Bernard (General Hospital), daughter of pin-up photographer Bruno Bernard.

Less than impressed with Tommy’s trials, Varla challenges him with, “I don’t beat clocks, just people.  You want to try me?” The other members of her group hop into their cars and start racing.  Shortly after, he and Varla wind up in a physical altercation. Varla strikes him repeatedly, then breaks his neck, killing him instantly.  Linda faints.  Worried that Linda could be a witness, the women kidnap her.

After fleeing the scene of the crime, Varla and the gang stop at a gas station.  A muscular but not terribly bright young man, a character known only as “the Vegetable” according to the film’s credits, catches Billie’s eye.  The gas station attendant informs Billie that the Vegetable is “kind of a nut” and his disabled father, who he lives with, is a real “sick character.” The attendant goes on to explain that the man’s dad was injured in a railroad accident.  His father received a hefty settlement and rumor has is that the money is hidden somewhere on the property.  With their curiosity piqued and Linda gagged and bound, the ladies set out in search of the money, but as the film’s introduction warns, “Violence devours all that it touches.”

The film wastes no time establishing the tone of the movie.  In fact, the film wastes no time at all, due in no small part to Meyer’s incredibly fast-paced editing.  I cannot help but think how much Meyer’s time spent filming combat footage during World War II, combined with photographing pin-ups early in his career, clearly shaped his very unique brand of filmmaking.

A large part of what makes me like Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! is its sense of humor.  The surprisingly witty banter between the characters really prevents this motion picture about violence from becoming dark and depressing.  Another aspect of the film that helps to create a one of a kind movie-going experience is the music, including an excellent theme song provided by The Bostweeds.  What’s not to love about a song with lyrics like, “If you think that you can tame her, well, just you try!”

The cast, while not terribly experienced as actors, aside from bit parts here and there, or appearances in other Russ Meyer films, like Mudhoney (also 1965), are actually quite good together.  Varla, in particular, is fascinating and unlike any character I have ever seen in a movie.

She, along with her partners in crime, are usually photographed with the camera looking up at them or they appear in the foreground of a number of shots.  Sure, Walter Schenk’s photography helps to draw attention to their voluptuous figures, but the camera angles he utilizes also make the women appear larger than life and even more powerful, especially when they are posed with their hands on their hips or have a leg up on the bumper of a car.  Everything and everyone in Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! is very over the top.  The film also incorporates a number of surprisingly creative shots, including a particularly memorable one from underneath Varla’s steering wheel during a racing scene.

Even though I hear that it is not performing very well at the box office, Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! is essential viewing for the more adventurous moviegoer.  It is totally original and unlike anything you will see all year.




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 4, 1965] Galaxy Bore (Doctor Who: Galaxy 4)

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By Jessica Holmes

Hello, dear readers! Summer’s passed, there’s a cold snap in the air, and Doctor Who is back on our television sets, which means that I get to waffle on to you about it at great length. Did you miss me?

We’re kicking things off with a strange new world and a new writer. I don’t believe we’ve had William Emms pen an episode before, so shall we see how he got on?

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 2, 1965] Gimmickry (November 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

When I was a boy, a gimmick was either much the same thing as a gadget or the sort of device a crooked casino owner would use to make sure the roulette wheel comes up 22. These days, of course, it means an ingenious new angle or a trick to draw attention in advertising. It can also be the sort of thing that makes a story work or at least that the author hopes will make the story interesting.

America’s Pastime

Baseball is no stranger to gimmicks. From sending midgets up to bat to exploding scoreboards, owners and general managers will do anything to get fans to come out to the park. After starting the season by losing 21 of their first 26 games, the Kansas City Athletics have been mired in the cellar all season. Desperate to get people into the stands as the season winds down, owner Charlie Finley came up with a couple of gimmicks in the last month. September 8th, was Campy Camp Night and regular shortstop Bert “Campy” Campaneris played all nine positions in a single game. Up against the Los Angeles Angels (or I guess California by that time, speaking of gimmicks), Campy started at shortstop and moved from position to position each inning. In the eighth, he took the mound and even switch pitched, throwing right-handed to right-handed batters and left-handed to left-handed batters. Alas, while catching in the ninth, Campy was injured in collision at the plate and had to sit out a few games.

On the 25th, Finley invited several old player from the Negro Leagues to be present when Satchel Paige took the mound against the Boston Red Sox. At 59, he’s the oldest person ever to play in the big leagues (and at 34 Athletics’ manager Haywood Sullivan is the youngest manager). Satch sat in a rocking chair in the bullpen between innings, being served coffee by a “nurse”. He pitched three innings, giving up only one hit. He came out to the mound to start the fourth, but as planned he was removed. The lights were dimmed, and the crowd held up lighters and lit matches and sang “The Old Gray Mare” as Paige walked off.


Left: Bert Campaneris. Right: Satchel Paige, with “nurse”

Baseball also saw a couple of milestones. On September 9th, Sandy Koufax of the Los Angeles Dodgers pitched a perfect game against the Chicago Cubs. (For non-baseball fans, that means Koufax and the Dodgers did not allow a single opposing player to get on base through any means.) Pity Cubs pitcher Bob Hendley, who gave up only one hit in the game. Four days later, on the 13th, San Francisco Giants player Willie Mays became the fifth player and first Black player to hit 500 career home runs. Congratulations to both men, whose teams, at the time of writing, are still vying to see which will make it to the World Series. Good luck to both (though I’m rooting for the Dodgers).


Left: Sandy Koufax. Right: Willie Mays

Gimmicks good and bad

This month’s IF is not without its gimmicks. Let’s get to it.


In orbit around a collapsed star. Art by Morrow

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Magazine/Anthology, Serial

[September 30, 1965] Big and Little Bangs (October 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Big One

Billions of years ago, the entire universe was smaller than the head of a pin.  For an endless eternity, or perhaps just an instant, it remained in this state – and then it exploded outward with the force of creation, ultimately becoming all that we see today.

Until this year, this "Big Bang" theory was as yet unconfirmed.  It had stiff competition in the "Steady State" hypothesis, which postulated that the universe is indeed expanding, but because of matter being constantly created.  This was fundamental to the plot of Pohl and Williamson's recent novels set in the reefs of space at the edges of our solar system.

But last year, Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson at the Bell Telephone Laboratories in Murray Hill, New Jersey noticed an excess of radio noise in the receiver they were building, an excess that closely resembled the Cosmic Microwave Background predicted by physicists Ralph Alpherin, Robert Herman, and George Gamow.  This extremely low level but pervasive energy is what's left of the heat of the primeval explosion, reduced to microwaves by the expansion of the universe.


The Murray Hill facility where the echoes of the Big Bang were discovered

Smaller Ones

Here on Earth, it seems our planet is anxious to imitate the violence of the universe at large.  On September 28, the Taan Volcano off the coast of the Philippine island of Luzon exploded, killing hundreds of Filipinos.

And less of a bang and more of a blaaat, we've just finished ringing in the Jewish new year with the traditional blowing of a ram's horn.

The Littlest One

Meanwhile, editor John W. Campbell, Jr. seems content to not rock the boat, providing a mixed bag of diverting fare and stale garbage in the latest issue of Analog, a combination that is unlikely to knock anyone off their feet.


by John Schoenherr

Overproof, by Johnathan Blake MacKenzie

On a planet two hundred light years from home, a husband and wife pair of anthropologists come across a horrifying discovery.  The native Darotha, an amphibian race resembling across between a cat and an octopus, are eating humans.  At least, it seems that way – the Yahoos, apelike herd animals on their planet, bear a striking resemblance to homo sapiens.  Are the Darothans really mass murderers?  Or are looks deceiving?


by John Schoenherr

This is an interesting piece that Randall Garrett (under a pseudonym) has offered up.  Unusually for an Analog story, the Darothans are a well-drawn alien race and not played for inferiority – indeed, they are treated with sensitivity not only by the author but by the Terran colonists on the planet, who see them as exciting as potential partners and as an example of non-human society.  In the end, the story is essentially an inverse of Piper's Fuzzy stories, where the question is not whether the humanoid Yahoos possess the spark of humanity, but whether they don't.

It's not a perfect story.  The conclusion is pretty obvious from the beginning, it meanders and repeats a bit, but it's more subtle than what I usually see in Analog, and it kept me interested.

Three stars.

The Veteran, by Robert Conquest

Humans from the future, who have forgotten the art of war, summon someone from the past to lead them in a war against alien nasties.  Unfortunately for them, the person they've found is a devout pacifist.  But luckily, the fellow discovers the battle lust within that he needs to fulfill his role.

Rather offensive, simplistic, and for some reason, the aliens conquer our solar system in reverse order of distance from the Sun even though it's unlikely that they'd all be lined up so obligingly.

Two stars.

Snakebite!, by Alexander W. Hulett, M.D. and William Hulett

For some reason, Campbell saw fit to include this high school science project discussing the use of snake venom to produce antivenom blood serum in rodents.  As an actual article, it might have been mildly interesting, but in its current form, it's pretty pointless.

Two stars.

The Mischief Maker, by Richard Olin


by John Schoenherr

A story told in epistolary, Maker describes how a crackpot professor with a grudge stumbles across the great power of the Law of Analogy, which he uses to destroy the leaders of America through various bits of voodoo and witchcraft.  Truth be told, my eyes glazed over when the author mentioned the Hieronymous Machine, that psychic amplifier requiring no power source that editor Campbell is so enamored of.

Two stars.

Space Pioneer (Part 2 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

Last but not least, we have the continuation of Reynolds' serial that began last month.  When last we'd seen the assassin impersonating Rog Bock, shareholder in the colonial venture on New Arizona, his masquerade had been discovered by at least one other shareholder.

Part 2 begins with the colony ship Titov landing on its virgin planet destination, so closely resembling Earth as to be a near twin.  The rapaciousness of the shareholders' goal becomes clear as the 2000 colonists find they have virtually no rights, that the shareholders plan to sell the valuable resource rights to outside entities almost immediately, and that the crew of the ship largely comprise ex-military personnel to make them a ready police force to keep the settlers in line.

Unrest threatens to boil over as the colony teeters on the brink of collapse, reeling from colonist indolence and sabotage by unknown persons – but by the end of this installment, they all have bigger concerns to worry about…

Again, Pioneer has only the barest trappings of science fiction.  Nevertheless, this is one of Reynolds' more deft tales, and I'm enjoying it a lot.

Four stars for this bit.

Seismographic Data

Where does this leave us for the month?  Well, Analog clocks in at just 2.7 stars, below Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.4), Science Fantasy (3.3), New Worlds (2.8), and Worlds of Tomorrow (2.8); it is just tied with the lackluster Galaxy.

It did manage to beat out the disappointing Amazing (2.6), IF (2.3), and the truly awful Gamma (1.5), however.

There were just two and a half pieces written by women (one was co-written) out of 58: 4.3%.  Surprisingly, the women-penned tales were all in the UK mags, which are usually all stag.  No women authors were included in either of the "All Star" Galaxy and F&SF issues this month, which is a real shame.  Where are Evelyn Smith and Margaret St. Clair?

Perhaps they are planning to return with a bang.  I certainly expect to herald their next stories with fireworks!

Looking for good science fiction by women?  Look no further than Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), the bestseller containing 14 of our favorite stories of the Journey era!




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[September 26, 1965] Allegory and Mythology Science Fantasy and New Worlds, October 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

After all the excitement about the Worldcon in London at the end of last month (I gather a good time was had by all!) we are back to normal this month.

The issue that arrived first in the post this month was Science Fantasy.

The cover by Agosta Morol hearkens back to mythology, as did the cover of the September-October 1964 issue. It’s clearly deliberate as the main story then, as now, was by Thomas Burnett Swann, who is by now developing quite a reputation for revisiting ancient myths and revising them for a modern-day readership.

After last month’s Guest Editorial by Brian Aldiss, this month the Editorial this month is by Kyril’s second-in-command. It rather makes me wonder what has happened to Mr. Bonfiglioni, although the top of the editorial states that he is away in Venice, stargazing – lucky thing!

Having said that, the Editorial is not that different to normal. Mr. James Parkhill-Rathbone begins in a roundabout way by talking of architecture and design before going on to make the point that because humans have a lack of logic then future trends are nearly impossible to predict accurately. I liked it – there’s an entertaining mix of anecdotal humour and serious point-age going on.

To the actual stories.

The Weirwoods (Part 1 of 2), by Thomas Burnett Swann

And so straight in with a bang. If you have been following my writings here, you may know that I really like Burnett-Swann’s re-imaginings of ancient myths and folklore. His story The Blue Monkeys was the first issue of Science Fantasy I reviewed here way back in September 1964, and since then his material has always entertained. So, having tackled Greek myths and Persian myths, this time he is telling a tale from Etruria. It is the story of two cultures – one human, the other mythological – and the difficult relationship the two groups have with each other. At the beginning there is a reluctant trade between the Etruscan people of the city of Sutrium and the many different species of the neighbouring Weirwood, where we have Centaurs, Sprites, Nymphs, Fauns and the like.

The main characters are Lars Velcha of Spina and his daughter Tanaquil. Whilst moving to Sutrium they stop at a lake, and Lars captures a young teenage Water Sprite called Vel to make him a slave for Tanaquil. When travelling troubadour Arnth visits Sutrium and is invited to stay at their house, he decides to free Vel and return him to his people of the lake. This involves Arnth going to the lake and negotiating with Vegoia, who is the sorceress of the Weir people. They return to Sutrium and end the story on a cliffhanger to be concluded in the second part next month.

Once again Burnett Swann entices with his expressive descriptions and context. His writing clearly shows an intelligent understanding of ancient myths. In this mystical land before the Romans he manages to eloquently and lyrically describe the different cultures. The Weir folk are appropriately unearthly, whilst the humans seem to reflect both the innocence and the avarice of human nature.

Although parts do read like a fairytale, it is definitely a story for adults. Whilst Thomas’s previous stories have always had an element of sexuality to them, The Weirwoods is perhaps the most explicit yet. There’s sex and a lot of nakedness and men in loincloths which may be too frank or even shocking to some readers – most of the men-slaves and the male creatures are naked, for example, and the author spends some time giving details of this. He doesn’t hold back too much on the youthful desire the virginal Tanaquil has for Vel and Arnth, either, or indeed the relationship of Arnth and the weir woman Vegoia. There’s also explicit scenes in the entertaining stories Vel tells his audience as part of his performances. Such aspects lend a certain degree of maturity to the story that, whilst not for everyone, add depth and detail.

It is a sign of confidence that the serial fills over 70 pages of the magazine’s 130 this month. As ever, literate and entertaining without being obtuse. 4 out of 5.

Ragtime, by Pamela Adams

A new name to me, and – good heavens! – a woman writer! (Actually, I think that both magazines have tried hard to include women writers in the last couple of years, although there is a noticeable dearth generally.) The story is really a ghost story told by a woman about the disappearance of her husband one night whilst staying on a river boat. There’s some “Be warned – I should tell you about the weird goings-on…” type of comments, but it is readable, if a tad predictable. 3 out of 5.

Green Goblins Yet, by W Price

Another new name. This month’s lightest tale is one of those jokey-style shaggy dog stories set in a diner, where a mysterious stranger immediately nicknamed ‘Egghead’ comes looking for a goblin after a newspaper story of sheep being savaged in the Kinder Scout area. After asking the locals in the diner for advice, Jigsy and Spike agree to help find it – which they do. A story in that category I normally think of that starts, “You’ll never believe it, but…” Entertaining enough. 3 out of 5.

State of Mind, by E. C. Tubb

The popular return of one of the old guard, E.C.’s story is about a man who begins to suspect that his wife, who he has been married to for more than fifteen years, is not who he thought she is. Is it the sign of a mental breakdown, or something more sinister? It is well told, but a lesser tale of paranoia and perception, one that slow-burns until the violent end. One for the Twilight Zone fans, I guess. (We still haven’t seen the television series here in Britain, by the way.) 3 out of 5.

The Foreigner, by Johnny Byrne

I said last month that Johnny has produced some very strange stories in the past, with varying degrees of success for me. This is another oddity, a story told by a man meeting his seemingly-eccentric new neighbour, who insists on trying to throw himself out of his window wrapped in a mattress plugged into the mains electricity. The reason for this is typical Byrne material, but I quite liked it. 3 out of 5.

Goodnight, Sweet Prince, by Philip Wordley

Philip last appeared in the May 1965 issue of Science Fantasy with Timmy and the Angel. This time his story (quoting Hamlet, literary fans!) is of a future where people can time-travel into the past. On this particular occasion film magnate Art Kirbitz and his crew have travelled to Shakespearean England to film an original version of Hamlet. Director Harry Gorrin goes in search of the original manuscript in Shakespeare’s own writing, but finds a letter being written by the Bard that puts a very different slant on the man. The twist in the tale at the end is nothing really new, but I quite liked this one, although the modern-day patois between the financier and his modern crew, full of “beefy cats” and “gonnas”, is a little too unsubtle for my liking. However, this is the best story I’ve read from Philip. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Any issue that has Thomas Burnett Swann makes me happy – entertaining storytelling giving us a glimpse into a different world. I’m pleased that this one doesn’t let me down and I’m already looking forward to next month’s continuation. The rest of the issue is a little more variable but, in the end, rather pedestrian. Not really a bad story there, but generally too bland for me. Overall then, a rather middling issue, dominated by the raunchy Burnett Swann.

Onto this month’s New Worlds.

The Second Issue At Hand


After the Aldiss issue last month, we’re almost back to normal with this month’s arrival of New Worlds. This includes a dreadful uncredited cover.

This month’s editorial from Mike Moorcock is short and rather perfunctory. He points out that the stories this month are “closer to the imaginative fantasies of Kafka, Peake or Borges than, say, the work of Asimov or Heinlein” before then reviewing an issue of one of the semi-professional magazines and finally making the point that emotion is as important in sf as much as conceptual ideas. It feels like a mixed hodge-podge of ideas without too much thought.

To the stories!

Bill, the Galactic Hero, Part 3: E=mc2 – OR BUST, by Harry Harrison

Straight into the final part of Harry Harrison’s parodic serial, where hapless Bill finds himself in court for desertion. He is placed in prison to do hard labour for one year and then sent back to the battlefront on a reduced rank. The place Bill goes to reminded me of Harrison’s other recent novel, Deathworld, as it is a deadly planet, and the story seems much more serious at this point. He meets old friends and enemies there. The end of the story turns full circle.

I really want to like this story, and I know many that do, but despite trying I just can’t warm to it. This one seems to totally run out of steam. In addition, the creation of a character that is an “Arabic-Jewish-Irish con man” seems to be wanting to offend as many people as possible. Others however find it hilarious. 3 out of 5.

The Golden Barge, by William Barclay

The first of Moorcock’s vaunted allegorical stories. (William Barclay is actually Michael Moorcock in another of his guises.) Jephraim Tallow finds himself chasing a golden barge down a river. His boat runs aground on a sandbar. Floundering onto land, he meets Pandora, a strange woman with green eyes, who takes him home. She seduces him and he falls in love with her. However, this idyll is interrupted when a group of drunken revellers turn up. After some sort of orgy, Tallow realises that he must continue his journey on the river, but to do so means leaving Pandora. Pleading by Pandora to stay leads to a sad end.

I get that the story is really a tale of a man’s life-journey and how he must continue to travel through life, despite the distractions that come his way. At times, the story is quite lyrical, but otherwise it didn’t really do much for me. I suspect that some of the allegory is beyond me. 3 out of 5.

Heat of the Moment, by R. M. Bennett

Nuts-and-bolts salesman Chris Parker finds himself rescued out of a burning building to be abducted by Collectors of the Prime Government of the Second Planet of Rigel as a sample of the fauna of Sol Three. Despite the good intentions of the aliens, the situation doesn’t end well. A one-trick tale that seems fairly pointless. 3 out of 5.

Emancipation, by Daphne Castell

For the second time in two months we have that rare event of a story written by a woman. It is something that we should see more of in these magazines and Ms Castell takes her opportunity well. Emancipation initially reads like an old-style fantasy tale with seemingly primitive alien lizard-men keeping the seemingly less intelligent women of the tribe penned up and looked after as if they were animals.

With names like “Krug of Stok”, at first I thought that this was a parody of the Robert E Howard Conan stories, although we later discover that the Stokka are a seemingly primitive race living on the planet Stok. When Krug hears from Skag and Lopp, Lopp tells them of the technological gifts that space-faring Terrans from Sunward 3 bring to newly discovered planets. The Stokka men realise that in return for the setting-up of a space beacon and a Galactic Embassy they could gain technological power, wealth and status on their rather run-down planet. The aliens decide it would be a good idea to fete the humans, despite their cultural differences, and to show willingness re-educate some of the Stok women into the ways of the Terrans. This leads to cultural change previously unimagined by the men.

Another ‘comedy’ story, this time a comedy of manners and different cultures, based around the idea that how people see different cultures is funny. It’s really one of those old adventure stories where explorers act as missionaries to primitive tribes, but in a science fictional setting.

In the end, the story was better than I thought it was going to be – as comedy I enjoyed it more than Bill’s story, for example – but not a memorable one. 3 out of 5.

Jake in the Forest, by David Harvey

This story describes a series of lifecycles. Firstly, Jake travels through a forest, marvelling at the complex ways in which patterns and processes are present. Like in the Golden Barge, he meets a woman who feeds him and puts him to bed, after which he appears to be back in the forest in a different form. Approaching a megalith, he appears to be buried by it but instead takes another form, appears in a cavern by a lake and then the sea. Finally, he appears to be in bed in a forest cottage, gets up, washes, eats and drinks, and meets a beautiful woman. It appears that this cycle keeps him eternal.

Another allegorical story, quoting Ibsen but little more than a series of expressive set pieces. Poetic in its descriptions, but it did little for me. Seems to want to be Ballard. Despite Moorcock’s attempt in the Editorial to explain its purpose here in the issue – it is written “from a creative need to find fresh methods of telling a story and making a point” – it gives lots of description but the point is weak, not to mention unintelligible. Not for me. 2 out of 5.

… And Isles Where Good Men Lie, by Bob Shaw


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The return of Bob Shaw after a long absence from this magazine is a good thing, although at first glance this one reads like a traditional sf space opera story. Lt. Col. John Fortune is commander of a military base at United Nations Planetary Defence Unit N186. Nesster spaceship Number 1753 looks like it is due to land at his base, and the unit is put on alert. The legendary ‘Captain Johnny’ is put on display to the press as a sign that all is well, as a hero of the Nesster War.

However, despite all of the surface sheen and bluster, behind the scenes the story is less rosy. Fortune’s friend and scientific genius, Bill Geisler, is asked by Fortune to try and find the guiding spaceship and shoot it down before it lands.

More so, Fortune’s personal life is falling apart. His wife, Christine, is clearly having an affair with charismatic youngster Pavel Efimov, something they barely seem to hide. The plot edges into a soap opera melodrama, rather than a space opera.

Nevertheless, all is resolved at the end.

An odd one this, in that Bob has taken a somewhat traditional sf plot and given it some modern, if unusual touches. Fortune is overweight and yet a figurehead hero, with a domestic life that is about as far from the American ideal as you’d expect. I liked the fact that it was set in Iceland, again somewhere different from the typical US missile base. There’s also some debate about what to do with the aliens, once seen as a threat and now possibly something more. On the downside though, at times the story can come across as a tale of macho-posturing which at times veers into near- hysteria. It’s good to see Bob back, but this is not one of his best. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews and Dr Peristyle

In the review section, amusingly titled Self-Conscious Sex, only one book is reviewed this month. Charles Platt reviews Robert A Heinlein’s A Stranger in a Strange Land as “a remarkably dull book”, where “Stylistically, cloying American cliché and banter merge with a coyness…inconsistent with the self-consciously bold aim to be frank about sex…” Clearly not a fan.

In happier news, “Dr. Peristyle” (aka Brian Aldiss) is back. This month he holds forth on topics as wide-ranging as religion, the function of sf as ‘literature’, the importance of scientific accuracy and whether publishers are producing quantity rather than quality. It continues to make me laugh.

Summing up New Worlds

An issue with lofty ambitions but for me surprisingly mundane. The allegorical tone of some of the material is a worthy attempt to be different, but left me unimpressed. And whilst many readers will be sad to see Bill the Galactic Hero go, (see the ratings for the first part in issue 153 below), I won’t. Here’s to a fresh restart next issue.

Summing up overall

Although neither issue is an outstanding one, as you might gather, it is pretty clear which issue I enjoyed most this month. I appreciate what Moorcock is trying to do in New Worlds, but for me the more memorable read is Science Fantasy by far.

Until the next…



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Movies

[September 24, 1965] False Advertising (Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster and a brief history of Mary Shelley's creation on film)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The Big Bang

Just about a century and a half ago, the largest volcanic eruption in recorded history occurred on the island of Sumbawa, in what was then part of the Dutch East Indies. Mount Tambora exploded on April 5, 1815. Something like one hundred thousand people died as a result of the disaster, either by the direct effects of the eruption, or from disease and starvation due to the severe change in the environment. The volcano ejected so much material into the atmosphere that global temperatures were reduced to a significant degree for a year or more. In the Northern Hemisphere, 1816 is often known as the Year Without a Summer. Crop failures and famine resulted in Asia, Europe, and North America.


A map of the island, published in 1855. Note the large crater left behind by the explosion.

So what does this horrible tragedy have to do with with a cheap science fiction movie? Well, it's a long story.

Now is the Summer of Our Discontent

In the spring of 1816, Percy Shelley and his teenage girlfriend Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin paid a visit to Lord Byron, along with some other folks, at a mansion known as the Villa Diodati, near Lake Geneva in Switzerland.


Looks like a nice place for a vacation, if it weren't for the bad weather.

Thanks to Mount Tambora, the following summer was wet and cold. Instead of enjoying the outdoors, this group of literary intellectuals had to amuse themselves inside the house. Lord Byron proposed that they each write a scary story. Shelley and Byron only produced fragments, while fellow houseguest John William Polidori came up with The Vampyre, the first modern vampire story and a possible influence on Bram Stoker's famous 1897 novel Dracula. Far more important than this, however, was the classic work created by Mary Godwin (later married to Shelley, and better known to us as Mary Shelley.)

The Modern Prometheus

First published anonymously in 1818, the novel Frankenstein is too well known to require any description here. Suffice to say that it was an immediate critical and popular success.


The first edition.

As early as 1823, it was adapted for the stage by Richard Brinsley Peake under the title Presumption; or the Fate of Frankenstein. Shelley herself witnessed this production.


A playbill from the original staging.

It's Alive!

Many other versions of the story reached theaters in years to follow. The first cinematic adaptation arrived in 1910, in the form of a brief film from Edison Studios.


A still of Charles Ogle in the role of the Monster. This film is now thought to be lost, but maybe a copy will turn up some day.

Of course, things really got going with the famous 1931 movie starring Boris Karloff. Many sequels followed, as any fan of the syndicated television program Shock Theater can tell you. For the record, the series from Universal Studios consists of The Bride of Frankenstein (1935), Son of Frankenstein (1939), The Ghost of Frankenstein (1942), Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943), The House of Frankenstein (1944), and House of Dracula (1945). (Despite not being named in the title, the Frankenstein Monster does appear in the latter film.)

For some reason, the studio never completed the obvious trilogy with a film called House of the Wolf Man, but maybe some enterprising film maker will come up with something in the future.


Elsa Lanchester as the Bride of Frankenstein. The lady has style.

Things got a lot less serious with Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948). (Somewhere along the way, the name of the creator got mixed up with the name of the creation. The two comedians didn't actually meet the man called Frankenstein, but rather the Monster he created.)

Nearly a decade went by before the Monster was revived by the British studio Hammer, with The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), followed by The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958) and The Evil of Frankenstein (1964). Meanwhile, low budget American productions showed up, including I Was a Teenage Frankenstein (1957), Frankenstein 1970 (1958), and Frankenstein's Daughter (1958).


Christopher Lee as Hammer's version of the Monster.

From Mars to Puerto Rico


For some reason they didn't give me my Space Shield Eye Protectors.

The latest film to cash in on Mary Shelley's creation, Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster, arrived in American movie houses just a couple of days ago. At this point, you may want to throw rotten fruit and vegetables at me, because I've made you suffer through my lengthy introduction for no good reason.

Neither Frankenstein nor his creature appear in the movie.

So why the title? I'll get to that in a moment.

We begin aboard an alien spaceship. The trailer for the movie claims they're from Mars, although this is not explicitly stated in the film itself. In command is a woman who is always addressed as Princess. (The end credits call her Princess Marcuzan, but this name is never mentioned in the movie.) In the tradition of women from outer space, she's a beauty, dressed in a skintight catsuit, a wispy cape, and an odd-looking hat.


Marilyn Hanold, Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Month for June, 1959, as Princess Marcuzan.

Assisting her is a little fellow called Doctor Nadir. He seems to be in charge of destroying Earth missiles soon after takeoff. (This is conveyed to the audience through the use of stock footage of rockets blowing up. I'd say that at least half of this movie consists of stock footage.)


Lou Cutell as Nadir. It's nice to see someone who really enjoys his work.

There are a few other Martians on board as well, who share the same bald head and pointed ears as Nadir. Most of the time, you can't tell they're not Earthlings, because they wear very NASA-looking spacesuits and space helmets.

Back on Earth, an automobile full of military types and science types drives very slowly towards Cape Kennedy. We get to see a lot of space-themed businesses on the road, such as the Satellite Motel, the Polaris Motel, and a burger joint that has what looks like a map of Mars for an entrance. In an odd scene, one of the military guys asks our film's Lady Scientist how she's doing, and she says nothing at all. I have no idea what that was all about.

Anyway, after an excruciatingly long car ride, we arrive at a press conference, where we get introduced to astronaut Colonel Frank Saunders (does his first name suggest anything to you?) and a scientist with the very masculine name of Adam Steele.


From left to right, Military Guy, Lady Scientist, Astronaut, and Manly Scientist.

Things go OK at the press conference, until Frank answers a question from a reporter with a mild joke, followed by a wide grin. The film freezes, and we think that maybe something has gone wrong in the projection room.


Would you buy a used car from this man?

It turns out that Frank has frozen in place. The science types hustle him out of the room, and we see them open up his head on an operating table. Don't worry, you won't see any gore; Frank is actually a robot.

You see, because all those American rockets are blowing up, NASA wants to send a machine to Mars instead of a human being. (And you wondered where your tax dollars were going.) The one little flaw in this plan is that nothing prevents the Martians from blowing up Frank's rocket as well. He crashes on Puerto Rico, badly messed up by the accident in both body and mind.


Frank after the explosion. He's had better days.

Frank goes on a rampage, killing folks at random. In the movie's most gruesome scene, we see him attack a guy with a machete (off screen, thank goodness.) At some point, Lady Scientist says he's like a Frankenstein, in a feeble attempt to justify the movie's title.

Meanwhile, the Martian spaceship lands on Earth. An expository speech from the Princess to her crew (who should already know all this) reveals that a big war on Mars resulted in victory for her side, but left the planet without any females except herself. The plan is to kidnap nubile human females and use them for reproductive purposes.


The Martian spaceship, which looks way too small to hold all the folks we see inside it.

It probably won't surprise you to find out that many of these young ladies arrive wearing bikinis. Given this fact, a scene of a bunch of young folks dancing, and a recurring rock 'n' roll song on the soundtrack, you can classify this film as a Beach Movie.


The Princess inspects the first captive.

While this is going on, Lady Scientist and Manly Scientist track down Frank with some kind of electronic gizmo. This involves the two of them leisurely riding around Puerto Rico on a little motor scooter while a love song plays on the soundtrack. This suggestion of a romance between the two never really develops into anything.


Suddenly the movie turns into a travelogue.

They find Frank, and somehow change him from a homicidal maniac back into a nice robot. The pair foolishly split up, and Lady Scientist gets kidnapped by the Martians. She's locked up in a cage next to our Space Monster, the oddly named Mull. This critter is a skull-faced thing with big claws, and would make a pretty good Hallowe'en costume.


Would you buy a used spaceship from this monster?

A few minutes before the end credits, our pseudo-Frankenstein finally meets the Space Monster. You can probably guess how things turn out.

Obviously, this is a cheap, silly little movie, best enjoyed as a source of derisive laughter. I doubt it will be the last Frankenstein-related film we'll ever see, and it may not even be the worst. (Frankenstein's Daughter is a strong contender.) I understand there's even a Japanese-American co-production, already released in the Land of the Rising Sun, but not yet in the USA. Keep watching the movie listings in your local newspaper!


A scene from Furankenshutain tai Baragon, as the film is known in Japan.

We'll be discussing better movies, I hope, and more at our next Journey Show: At the Movies!

DON'T MISS IT!




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Book, Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 22, 1965] Foul! (September Galactoscope)

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This month's Galactoscope features a mixed bag of mixed bags: one Ace double and one Gamma that barely manages a solitary single…


By Jason Sacks

We, the Venusians, by John Rackham

I picked up the latest Ace Double Novel at my local Woolworth's the other day, and had to share my opinions of the two novels with my fine science fiction friends.

On one side of the double was the deliriously wacky cover shown below, which actually is a scene in John Rackham's meandering but intriguing new novel. By my reckoning, this is at least the third Ace double this prolific author has delivered over the last two years, and though I haven't read either Watch on Peter or Danger from Vega yet, this slim novel – a true Ace double at 137 pages – makes me want to try them out too.

The main character of We, the Venusians is Anthony Taylor, a man who feels himself out of place on a future version of Earth. Though the timing of that future isn't revealed in the novel, it's clear he lives in a bit of a dystopian world. Advertising is pervasive and unavoidable, commerce and greed rule the world, and the arts are trivialized and mocked.

This all matters because Taylor is an accomplished musician and the owner of a small club in which he plays Liszt, Schubert, Bach and the other classical artists to an ever-diminishing tribe of listeners. He is truly a man on the outside of his time. That's why he has a mixed reaction when a strange man wanders into Taylor's club and offers an obscene amount of money to travel to the Terran colony on Venus to play music, Taylor is both intrigued and repulsed by the opportunity.  He is intrigued by chance to get rich quick and the chance to make a new start. Taylor is also repulsed by the idea because he has a secret he fears will be revealed on his new home: though his skin appears human color, he is actually a Greenie, a green-skinned Venusian native.

Through a series of plot machinations, Taylor does end up journeying to Venus along with two other musicians, one of whom, named Martha Merrill, is a beautiful woman who possesses an unbelievable singing voice. They also discover that the human colonists have enslaved thousands of apparently mindless Greenies to do menial labor in order to keep the colony buzzing along. Taylor and Merrill escape the human domes into the native lands, and both performers literally go native – Martha is also secretly a Venusian.

Though Merrill soon dies, Taylor finds his destiny among his own people and ends up becoming a force for revolution among his adopted people against the colonists.

One of the most intriguing elements of the book is the beans which grow on Venus and provide nutrition and energy for the people living there. While the Venusians protect their precious resource carefully, the humans try to exploit the beans and export the incredibly valuable food back to Terra. This element of the plot had an intriguing post-colonial feel to it. It's easy for the reader to substitute tobacco or silk as the exploited resource in our own history. It's a smart choice by Rackham to bring in that idea, as it adds resonance and contrast to the human/greenie struggle.

We, the Venusians is full of interesting ideas, from its resonances to the Civil Rights movement of today to its treatment of Indians in the west to the ways pop music overwhelms classics. Rackham keeps his story focused on character, and that keeps the reader involved in this novel. I enjoyed reading how Anthony Taylor grows and changes as this book goes along, and that growth gives this book a lot of its energy.

That said, the book rambles and wanders a bit too much and seems to frequently lose its focus. I know it's anathema to us fans of Ace doubles, but another 20 pages of meat would have made this book's bones stronger.

3 stars.

The Water of Thought, by Fred Saberhagen

Fred Saberhagen is another science fiction writer who has settled into a journeyman status at this point. He's appeared in a number of the science fiction magazines in recent years, and his "Berserker" stories have started to gain more attention from aficionados. My colleague David Levinson has praised Saberhagen's ability to pull off modern fiction within the framework of space opera, and that skill is well on display in The Water of Thought.

Like We, the Venusians, Saberhagen's novel takes place on an alien planet on which native peoples are in conflict with Terrans. The planet Kappa is a kind of garden of Eden, a paradise and perfect place for rest and relaxation for exhausted Space Force planeteers. It's also the home to native peoples and a type of water which provides amazing changes in people. When a planeteer named Jones samples the water, he goes crazy and disappears from the colony. Planeteer Boris Brazil must follow to investigate.

Jones becomes megalomaniacal under the influence of the "water of thought", and rapidly becomes an addict. Jones is constantly seeking his next drink, like a heroin addict looking for his next fix. When Jones forces Brazil to drink the water, it has a different effect on him. Brazil is nearly paralyzed and loses his free will while in proximity to Jones, but does not become addicted. The battle between the two men, and the story of the humans and natives caught in the middle, is an important part of the book.

Like We the Venusians, this book has a natural resource as a key point of conflict between humans and Kappans as the water is seen by some as a resource to be exploited for personal gain. The human mayor of Kappa sells the water as a drug, trying to earn a neat profit off of a local resource. Meanwhile a human scientist has slightly more noble goals: he believes the water may help the local hominid species gain intelligence and gain their freedom from slavery by the natives.

The Water of Thought is a more complex book than it seems at first glance, and reveals some of the shallowness of Rackham's world. Where Rackham draws a pretty clear line between humans and greenies on Venus, Saberhagen presents Kappa as a more complex world. Kappa is a place where the lines between hero and villain are somewhat unclear, where everybody is exploiting each other in some ways, and in which the precious natural resource has ambiguous effects.

This book adroitly shows Saberhagen's skills at mixing space opera elements with a psychological and philosophical elements. The Water of Thought feels contemporary for our year of 1965, a time in which the smartest people are embracing ideas of the past but providing new approaches to those ideas.

4 stars.

Gamma #5: The Worst Sci-fi Magazine Ever Published?


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Back in the early 1950s, when the market was flooded with magazines, there used to be plenty of forgettable magazines that would crank out terrible stories. Whilst it may be possible my memory is cheating me, I cannot recall a single issue as awful as this issue of Gamma:

Gamma Cover

This terrible issue of Gamma starts as it means to go on with another lurid cover from John Healey. I had hoped the style from the last issue was just due to it being a special edition calling back to the 30s, apparently this is the direction the magazine is going, with it illustrating the lead novella.

John Healey himself is a talented artist apparently working on shows like Johnny Quest, so I more question the editorial choice than his skill.

Now, take a deep breath, and let us all work together to get through this issue:

Nesbit, by Ron Goulart

Taking up nearly half the magazine, the perpetually disappointing Ron Goulart returns as, apparently, the editors simply cannot resist his writing. Once again, I find my eyebrow raised at this assertion.

This novella follows an attempt to shoot a pilot for a “jungle series”. When the Hollywood lot turns out to be in use Tim McCarey goes to visit Vincent Belgraf’s estate, to convince him to let them use his transplanted jungle for the shoot. However, on arriving he cannot get ahold of Mr. Belgraf and the other residents tell him it is not for rent.

Tim believes something else is amiss and finds a gorilla running around the estate in a soldier’s outfit. It turns out that this is Nesbit Belgraf. After being attacked by his own private army he had his brain transplanted into that of a gorilla, so he will be strong enough to become emperor of the United States and battle the unseen forces secretly controlling everyone’s lives.

Whilst Tim does not agree with this fascist conspiracy-minded gorilla and his family, he agrees to help with his propaganda efforts in exchange for being able to use part of the jungle for filming. However, Nesbit is very emotional and has difficulty keeping his cool.

I have trouble working out what Goulart is trying to do with this piece. If it is a satire on fascism and right-wing conspiracy theories, it fails. For, apart from Nesbit being a gorilla, it feels more like a documentary piece, as I am fully aware of the existence of those who believe in Jewish-Communist conspiracies controlling the world. It never does anything to really contradict what the Brelgrafs say, nor even to particularly suggest that their plans to put all non-white people into concentration camps or exterminate them, is as horrific as it really is.

If it is trying to be just an adventure story, it also fails. Intelligent gorilla stories are two-a-penny in comic books but are usually mindlessly enjoyable. This is incredibly dull and padded, full of side details that another might make charming, yet Goulart makes unbelievably tedious.

I could imagine many interesting ways a more skilled writer could have taken this piece, but instead Goulart produces something truly dreadful.

An exceptionally low One Star.

Policy Conference, by Sylvia Dees and Ted White

Peter and The Chief meet in the latter’s office to discuss how they could improve “interregional relations” for their boss Old Nick (I offer no prizes for guessing who that actually is).

Whilst this story is more supernatural than science fictional it weirdly has the same conceit as the previous tale, of someone having to work on PR for a monster. It just helps highlight how unoriginal a concept this is. Mercifully, this one is very short.

One Star

Gamma
We get the return of the unrelated sketches. Depressingly they are better than the actual text.

Auto Suggestion, by Charles Beaumont

Returning from the earlier issues of Gamma (publishing the best story in issue 1) The Twilight Zone writer brings a story of automobiles. Unfortunately, this is definitely not his best work.

Abnar Llewellyn, a nervous driver, suddenly finds his car talking to him and it encourages him to be a more aggressive on the roads. It also starts to interfere in other areas on Abnar’s life, asking out women for him and instructing him on how to commit crimes.

I have gone on record saying I am no lover of cars, and so tales like this generally leave me cold. However, even accounting for that, I felt the story was bad. It is painfully overwritten to the point of being juvenile:

A truck’s air horn began some car lengths away. A frightening sound, a terrible sound, like the scream of a wounded elephant, and it led other smaller cars to renew their anger, shrill now beneath the dump-truck’s might below, shrill and chittering, like arboreal creatures gone mad.

Even Lovecraft would probably tell him he needed to cut out some description!

It also ends up not doing anything particularly interesting, just being a story where the protagonist does unpleasant things and may or may not be insane.

One Star

Welcome to Procyon IV, by Chester H. Carlfi

This is not a new writer to these pages but, rather, another story by longtime editor Charles E. Fritch, contributing his 4th story to the magazine.

In this vignette, Jameson and his wife are the last people left alive on the dead world of Porycon IV, with humans having wiped out the natives and disease killing the rest of the human population. On his ancient radio Jameson hears a human expedition coming but when they come to in to his cabin they discover a terrible truth about Jameson’s wife.

This feels like a pale imitation of Ray Bradbury’s Martian stories. It is more competent than the previous two pieces in the magazine, but a lot remains heavily unexplained. Also including a genocide in one line without any further thought left a bad taste in my mouth.

One and a half stars

Interest, by Richard Matheson

Cathryn is to be married to Gerald Cruickshank, yet find his parents and their house terrifying. However, she cannot work out why that is.

As stated in the introduction, this is a Poe-esque tale, although the purpose of it escapes me. Feels more like a derivative work you would find in a bad fanzine.

One Star

Gamma
Another sketch, holding my interest much more than Matheson’s story did.

Lullaby and Goodnight, by George Clayton Johnson

In the aftermath of a nuclear war, an outpost of shelters is setup outside of an unnamed city. Our narrator (also unnamed) talks about the trouble Sarah Hartman is having with trying to keep her baby Adam alive in the radiation-soaked world.

This vignette marks a short foray into the New Wave from the usually conservative Gamma. It is not the best example, but the melancholic atmosphere raises it above the rest of the stories here.

Three stars

Gamma
An ad for Jack Matcha’s “adult novel”

A Careful Man Dies, by Ray Bradbury

This is a reprint from New Detective Magazine from almost 19 years ago and, unfortunately, it shows.

It narrates the story of a haemophiliac author, named Rob, who keeps being sent sharp objects in the mail, in an attempt to stop his book from being published.

I know Bradbury is popular right now, but do we have to reprint everything he did in his early days? The truth is he has evolved as a writer and most of his work before 1950 is simply not that good!

This is not really a science fiction or fantasy piece, but I suppose it could be classified as uncanny horror. Unfortunately, it lacks anything interesting, it seems more like a sequence of unusual events, like reading someone’s disconnected nightmare.

The story is written in a pale imitation of Raymond Chandler’s hard-boiled style along with a second person narration. Whilst I do like experimentation this one fails for me.

Two stars

The Late Mr. Adams, by Steve Allen

Another reprint, this time from the publisher’s own collection, Fourteen for Tonight. This is my first experience with Mr. Adams' writings myself, although I hear he is big television personality in the United States.

This is a very silly life-story of a man who is always late. Really, that is all there is to it.

One Star

Wet Season, by Dennis Etchison

Etchison is generally a middling new writer. Shows promise but I am still waiting for a story that astounds me. Unfortunately, this is not it.

In a town there have been an unusually high number of drownings and the women seem to be acting strangely. At the same time rainfall levels are apparently increasing. After Madden’s daughter dies his Brother Bart comes to tell him of his suspicions.

Etchison really seems to like his Puppet Masters style stories and this is another one in that mold. I am willing to concede that it has a good atmosphere but that is all I am going to give.

A low two stars

Gamma Image 5
I love this illustration. Why couldn’t this have been one of the pieces inside?

Summing Up

This issue of the magazine is truly terrible. Some stories are not as bad as the others, but it would be a stretch to say anything is actually good.

I am beginning to feel foolish that I took out a subscription from issue 2, as I have already paid for more of these. However, if the quality continues like this, I find it hard to imagine this magazine continuing much beyond that.

That's all for today, folks! Join us next month for another exciting Galactoscope!

and…

Our next Journey Show: At the Movies, is going to be a blast!

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